


All Things Considered

by j_s_cavalcante



Category: due South
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:13:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_s_cavalcante/pseuds/j_s_cavalcante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clowns are evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Things Considered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ride_Forever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride_Forever/gifts).



>    _A thousand...thanks! (not clowns!) to my dear Beta for the terrific beta._
> 
>  
> 
>  _Thanks also to our awesome mods for their kindness, trust, and patience!  
>    _

 

 

 

All things considered, Ray was lucky the perps’ sense of humor outweighed their sense of murder.

Because, evil clowns and all, they were still _clowns_ , and that apparently counted for a lot.

“You might catch cold, but you won’t be catching _us_ , Detective,” the guy in the fluorescent orange wig said. He had a strong lisp that sounded fake, and his hands were big and rough as he pulled Ray’s leather jacket off him, one arm at a time, while two of the other clowns held Ray face-first against the alley wall.

“See what he’s got in there, Slappy,” the lispy guy growled.

“Sure thing, Fluffy.”

Fluffy unhooked Ray’s cuffs from his belt, yanked his arms up over his head, and cuffed Ray’s wrists around the bottom rung of a rusty, jagged piece of fire escape that was hanging off of what had to be an empty building, probably already on the slate for demolition. “You son of a bitch,” Ray snarled. He tugged at the cuffs, but they held, and so did the fire escape. It didn’t even creak; it was pretty solid—and that actually was a good thing, because the other option was having it come down on his head, and that would suck even if Ray lived through it.

Fluffy got up in his face and laughed. “Oh, please. You think you can call me anything worse than ‘Fluffy?’”

He had a point.

Ray sagged against the wall, trying to get his strength back. He’d already fought the five of them with all his strength and it hadn’t gone well. Every one of them outweighed him. Fluffy alone was built like a linebacker. Ray hadn’t realized they even made clown outfits that big. The shoes, yeah, but the suits?

Fluffy forced one size 30 shoe in between Ray’s size elevens and kicked his legs apart to frisk him. He pulled Ray’s wallet out of his back pocket and tossed it to one of the other clowns. “Check this out, Pieface. How you coming with the jacket, Slappy?”

“Bunch of stuff,” Slappy said. “Cell phone. Lighter. More cuffs. Bunch of keys. And an adorable little piece. Think it shoots Jell-o?”

“Bullets,” Ray growled against the wall. He’d like to put a bullet through the guy’s big red nose right about now. Unfortunately, they’d already taken his service weapon out of his shoulder holster, and there was no way he could reach his boot gun till his hands were free, so he had to content himself with just fantasizing about shooting them.

“You cops got no imagination,” Slappy said.

I’m imagining beating your stupid head against this wall, Ray thought, but he gritted his teeth and didn’t say it, because he wasn’t that stupid. Rule Number One when taken hostage: do not tell the perps how to hurt you.

“What’s in the other pocket?” Fluffy sounded impatient. “We’re on a schedule, guys.”

“Eyeglasses, pretty cute ones. Gum. Package of M&Ms. Condom. Ha-ha. You planning to get lucky, Detective?”

“Not as lucky as you’re gonna get in Joliet with some guy named Brutus,” Ray said. “And fifteen of his friends.”

“Ooh, I’m scared.”

“Shut up, Slappy. Buttercup, come over here and help me with this,” Fluffy ordered.

Hands even rougher than Fluffy’s yanked Ray back from the wall and tugged at Ray’s belt. Ray shut his eyes to protect them. Every stitch Buttercup had on was probably listed in the Illinois Criminal Code as an unlawful shade of yellow.

“Pants him,” Fluffy said. “We’ll get rid of any other weapons and hobble him at the same time.”

Ray groaned. Could it get any worse?

Apparently it could. They got his boots and pants off him almost faster than he could have done it himself. He tried like hell to kick one of them in the head, but that circus training apparently came in real handy for a life of crime, because they dodged every kick expertly, and his movements made his pants fall down his skinny legs far enough to expose the top of his ankle holster. “Hey! He’s got another little bitty gun strapped to his ankle.” Slappy said.

"Tricky bastard." Pieface sounded kind of impressed.

Fluffy sighed dramatically. "Well, we can't leave anything on him, then. Too chancy. Everything off." He waved a large hand at Pieface, who pulled out a switchblade and proceeded to shred Ray's shirt and undershirt right off him. Ray shut his eyes, but Pieface was clearly bent on garment destruction and not on personal injury of the cop kind, because when he had reduced the shirts to a heap of rags, he calmly snapped the blade closed and went back to sorting through Ray's stuff.

The fifth clown, the one whose name Ray hadn't heard yet, put his gloved hand on the waistband of Ray's boxer-briefs. Ray opened his eyes and growled at him. "Oh, come on, I'm not packing a gun in my shorts, you clowns."

The guy mimed a big shrug with both hands holding out the pockets of his polka-dotted satin clown suit, and then he put his hands back on Ray's shorts and stripped them off him like an expert. Ray'd think something about that, except it was probably just the guy's experience with quick costume changes. "Oh, my eyes," Fluffy said, fluttering a hand dramatically over his. "Warn me next time!" As if Ray's skinny, naked ass could possibly hurt his eyes more than Buttercup's abominable yellowness.

Polka-Dots mimed an apology.

Still hiding his eyes, Fluffy waved a hand at him. Go ahead, search his...you know. Make sure he's not hiding any more weapons.”

Polka-Dots mimed a "Hey, wait a second, why me?" and Ray bit his lip so he wouldn't groan. A mime was going to strip-search him. A fucking _mime_.

"You're the one with the best gloves," Fluffy answered, even though he supposedly wasn't looking and so shouldn't have been able to see what the guy said. Ray figured the leader of any group got to know the usual excuses pretty well after a while. Welsh was pretty good with that kind of thing.

Lucky for Ray, Polka-Dots was pretty gentle and quick, and he didn't actually poke his fingers _in_ anywhere, thank God.

“Okay, everybody, time to move out,” Fluffy said, clapping his hands together. “Chop chop!”

“What do we do with the cop’s stuff?” Slappy said.

“Shove it in the loot bag,” Fluffy said. “We’ll have to get rid of it somewhere, but we can’t leave it here like a trail of breadcrumbs.”

Fraser didn’t need a trail of breadcrumbs, Ray thought. These idiots were probably leaving Fraser the equivalent of a big red sign saying “They went thataway.”

“Pieface, bring the car around,” Fluffy said.

“Don’t tell me,” Ray said. “You’re all going to cram yourselves into a tiny little car to make your getaway.”

“How’d you know?” Buttercup seemed genuinely surprised.

“Lucky guess.”

“Don’t get smart,” Fluffy said. “Who’s gonna chase us in that thing?”

“Traffic cops,” Ray said. “Along with every other cop in the city once I get an APB out on you.”

Fluffy laughed a lot like Woody Woodpecker. “That’s going to be difficult, Detective, seeing as we’ve got your cell phone.” He dangled it by its antenna from one of his oversized clown gloves.

“You won’t get far,” Ray predicted. He bit his lip again, because he wasn’t in a good position to threaten the perps, and he really didn’t want to provoke them into giving him any more bruises. Also it helped take his mind off the fact that he was already beginning to shiver. “In this weather, what you’ve just done is attempted murder.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. It won’t be all that chilly till after dark, and someone’s sure to come along before then. After we’re gone you might want to holler for assistance.” Fluffy tilted his head, looking Ray up and down and chuckling. “Or then again, you might not.” He scratched his chin. “You know, I’ve got a rubber chicken kind of looks like you.”

Ray wanted to wring the perp’s ugly chicken neck, but he obviously wasn’t going to get that chance for a while. Fluffy smiled blandly and made a ridiculous parody of a salute. “Farewell, Detective! Don’t scare any little old ladies.”

Buttercup snickered into his hand and the others waved all their fingers separately, except Pieface waved only one specific finger, and Polka-Dots waved a big polka-dot handkerchief. Then the perps took off running. Well, waddling, actually, but either way they were gone surprisingly fast for a bunch of guys who were all wearing enormous shoes.

Ray struggled against his own handcuffs for about the time it took to have an average-size freakout, but he knew better than to pull too hard, because that made the cuffs tighten up, and he didn’t need them any tighter. Damn, those things pinched.

“Fraser! Damn it, Fraser, where the hell are you when I need you?” he whined against his arm, leaning against the cold brick and trying to curl up around himself like that had any chance of keeping him warm. Not that this particular pickle was really Fraser's doing per se, as Fraser hadn't even been there when Ray spotted the clowns holding up the bank. But Fraser did stuff like jump out of moving cars, or onto them, about once a week. He'd got Ray thinking it was _normal_ to do stuff like that. He'd _trained_ Ray into this lunacy! So Fraser ought to help him out of this, Ray reasoned.

Ray told himself he wouldn’t have to hold out that long; this was a big city, after all, and somebody had to come by within the hour at the very latest. Didn’t they?

Sooner or later someone was going to come into the alley and find Ray and eventually release him, and Ray really wanted that someone to be Fraser, even though this was all Fraser’s fault, because if it was almost anybody else, Ray was going to find out whether a person really could die of embarrassment.

Maybe an emergency-room surgeon, Ray thought. Maybe a doctor or an EMT could find him, and he wouldn’t think it was funny, he’d know what could happen to a cop chained bare-assed naked in a Chicago alley. He’d know that if a perp found Ray first, Ray might not be so lucky a second time, and he’d probably get beaten up or worse. And then maybe die of exposure--the deadly kind--overnight.

Ray shivered again, not only from the cold this time, and wondered how long it was going to be before he started losing feeling in his hands. He tugged at the handcuffs just a little, but—ow, it was pretty obvious he wasn’t going to get out of them that way, not and keep his hands attached. They were his own damn handcuffs; he knew perfectly well they weren’t going to fail.

He just had to keep his head and not freak out. He didn’t want to do something stupid like break his wrists just because he couldn’t keep his head on straight.

It wasn’t like there were perps overrunning this neighborhood, anyway. It wasn’t a slum, and these clowns had probably found the only alley with an empty building and a broken fire escape, just to torment Ray, because perps were like that, and Ray’s luck sometimes ran kind of like that, too. So that was one lucky thing and one unlucky thing. That was two things considered, and he was even on luck there. Then again, there were lots of other things he could consider, to see which way his luck really was running.

Because for one thing, even though this alley sucked, the neighborhood overall wasn’t such a bad one; a good part of it was even kind of yuppie and gentrified, and this building was probably just waiting its turn. It was just the kind of neighborhood Ray hated, all fake and shiny and style with no substance, the people living there temporarily with no real roots in the community, just waiting till they got a job opportunity somewhere else, like Florida or Arizona. Ray liked the real, old neighborhoods, the ones that were still there. Even the kind of shabby ones were better than slick ugly boxes, just like he’d told Stella the last time they’d argued about it, which…

…hey, maybe Stella could come along and find him. That would be humiliating in a whole other way than anybody else finding him, but at least she wouldn’t freak out about finding him naked, and she would know he wasn’t a psycho, and most of all, she’d _help_.

This was the kind of neighborhood Stella lived in, now that she wasn’t married to a cop any longer. In fact, he wasn’t that far from Stella’s place now, though he knew there was, like, no chance in hell she’d be out walking this way and could rescue him. Really, Stella wasn’t going to come walking along this street and notice him on the other side of the big yellow dumpster and come running over all concerned to help. She wasn’t ever going to know about this, not unless Ray actually did freeze to death here, and she had to go to his funeral.

But somebody, anybody else, anybody normal, would walk down the street just beyond the alley real soon, and some of them would see him, and whether they realized he needed rescue or just took him for a weirdo, either way, somebody’d eventually call the cops. That would probably be whatever uniforms patrolled this area, and they would get the cuffs off, and after Ray talked them into ID-ing him and calling his lieu they’d even probably be nice and helpful and all that.

But Ray would still never hear the end of it. He’d probably have to move to Timbuktu or the Northwest Areas.

He wondered if Canada could be talked into giving him asylum up there as easy as Fraser’d been talked into it at the Consulate. He tugged half-heartedly at the cuffs again and almost chuckled, distracted for a second by the memory of Fraser snapping cuffs around his wrists.

And, oh, God, that wasn’t a good distraction when he had no pants on, it really wasn’t, because even though it was pretty chilly, his dick twitched. He snarled at it. Handcuffs were _not_ hot, damn it, they were not, and this was not the warm, safe Consulate with Fraser, and Fraser’s hands snapping the cuffs around Ray’s vulnerable wrists while Ray looked up at him and wondered what the hell Fraser was doing…

…and felt perfectly, completely safe the whole time, knowing that some freakish explanation was coming soon enough, and all he had to do was wait him out. Because, okay, Fraser was kind of clueless about some things. He didn't seem to pick up on stuff like what those cuffs did to Ray that day in the Consulate. On the other hand, Fraser had almost looked like he was having fun snapping them on. Ray didn't know, really, because they hadn't actually _talked_ about it, then or later....

Maybe they should, sometime, he thought.

His eyes closed before he realized it and he leaned on the wall again and rested his face against his shoulder. He just needed about thirty seconds of shut-eye, probably, and he’d be good to go, he’d be…

 

“Hey, mister. Whatcha doing?”

Ray started awake. It had been a real high, little voice that sounded like…

Yeah, it was. A kid about five years old, if that, was standing near him, looking up at where his hands were secured to the rusty metal of the fire escape.

“Uh,” Ray said. “Kid, do you know how to call 911 for help?” The kid stared at him and put a finger in his mouth.

“Johnny Simon,” the kid said, taking his wet finger out of his mouth and pointing at the air. “I can write my name.”

“But can you call, I mean on the phone, can you call for help, you know how to do that?”

“My mom’s name is Carly,” the kid volunteered. “I live at 1549-11 West…”

“No, kid,” Ray interrupted. “I mean you’re probably thinking along the right lines, there, but I mean, do you know how to call the cops or call an ambulance?”

The kid blinked at him.

“Is your mom with you?” Ray asked. Jeez, how did you talk to kids? Ray’d always liked kids, theoretically or hypothetically or whatever that thing was where you liked an idea but kind of had problems with the reality half of the equation.

Come to think of it, the last time he’d been in cuffs before that time Fraser did it, kids did it. Ray slumped against the brick again. “Look, just tell your mother a guy in the alley needs the cops, okay?”

The kid narrowed his eyes at him. “What you need them for?”

“To help me,” Ray said. “I got attacked, I…there were these clowns—bad guys, kid. Criminals, they steal stuff, and…um. I’m a police officer. I need somebody to call the other cops to help me.”

Johnny stared some more. “You ain’t a cop,” he said finally. “You got no uniform.”

“I’m a detective, I’m, I wear uh, well, usually I wear plain clothes, I don’t wear the uniform.”

“Why are you naked?” the kid said.

“Clowns took my clothes,” Ray said, and he couldn’t help the way his voice cracked, because really, how do you say a thing like that?

“Oh,” the kid said, looking totally unfazed. “I hate clowns.”

“Me, too,” Ray said. Which, he never used to care about clowns one way or the other, but now? Understatement.

“Johnny!” A voice like a police siren from somewhere around the corner. Ray hesitated for two seconds, because that voice sounded like it could shrivel, um, stuff that was already undergoing way too much cold-related shriveling as it was.

Two seconds too long—Johnny’s eyes went wide and he bolted.

Ray sighed.

There were two more close calls, people stopping at the mouth of the alley, squinting into it, ignoring Ray’s flailing, and then doing unconvincing impressions of having seen nothing at all. One of them muttered “damn perverts” on the way past.

“Thanks, Fellow Citizens,” Ray grumbled. “As usual, great cooperation there with the law enforcement forces of the law. Your dax tollars at work.”

Something was wrong with that sentence, but he was yawning too hard to figure it out. He slumped a little in the cuffs—ow!—and then found a way to lean his head against his right arm and transfer all his weight to his right leg so he could shake out the left one. He switched sides two more times, but right around the time he lost count of which side and how many shakeouts, he nodded so hard that he whacked his head on the edge of the fire escape.

It smarted, but Ray didn’t care. Pillow, he thought. All I need is a pillow, and I’m good. A nap would be good. A nap would be greatness. He’d just lean his head back on his arm—it didn’t even hurt any more; he couldn’t really feel that arm much—and he’d just close his eyes for a minute or two and then everything would be all right…

Something was annoying him, pulling him up out of the floaty stuff he seemed to be swimming in. Hey, cool, he could swim. Wait, yeah. Lessons last year, after Fraser decided Ray needed to stop freaking out about every little exploding car diving into Lake Michigan or every barge sinking in Lake Superior, or you name it, Fraser probably had more stuff like that up his sleeve, even though they were tight buttoned-up sleeves that were nothing like clown sleeves, and didn’t have nothing up them but Fraser’s arms.

Strong fucking arms, that could pull a guy up out of the ocean, up into the air to fly like a bird…

Something was still annoying him. Whining sound. Something bumping his knee. Banging his lower legs, his…feet. Something warm on his feet, nice for a second and then…ouch, yeah, his feet had been pretty cold, huh?

“Thanks, Dief,” he murmured into his pillow. He didn’t have to get up. Wasn’t going to.

The expected whuffly sounds came in return, but with a little whine. Didn’t sound like Dief’s give-pizza-now whine. Kinda more worried.

Fraser. Must be. Fraser needed Ray, and Dief came to find him.

“Whatsa matter, Dief?”

Whine, followed by a little bark. His follow-me bark.

Yeah. Definitely Fraser needed Ray to…

Except Ray couldn’t seem to move, and when he tried, something hurt. He wasn’t sure what. He struggled. Dief barked sharply and then pressed his nose against Ray’s hip in a way that made Ray wrench around and pull his leg up in front of him, because for all that Dief could practically talk, he was still a dog, and if you didn’t watch out, he’d poke his nose in places where you really, really didn’t want it…

…and anyway, Ray had to pull himself together, get his eyes open so he could go help Fraser, ‘cause if Dief came to find Ray, then Fraser must really be in trouble, and Ray had to get to him.

“Dief you gotta help me get loose of this whatever, so I can go find Fraser.”

Maybe Dief thought he was helping, but his teeth on Ray’s bare ankle felt more like he was holding Ray in place. Which was screwy, right? Didn’t he need Ray to go find…

“Dief!” Fraser’s voice, loud and strong. Ringing, like he was calling down a hallway or an…

Alley.

Oh. Ray still couldn’t get his eyes open, but he must have come up out of his fog at least part way, because he remembered…not clearly, but he remembered the important thing: he was the one who was in trouble, not Fraser. That was the important thing.

Fraser was okay.

Also, there was something about clowns, and Ray was probably half-dead of exposure--but there were Dief’s teeth gentle but firm on his ankle, and there was Benton Fraser’s voice.

Ray’s own personal rescue-Mountie.

Thank Christ on his bike and Buddha on his skateboard.

“Fraser!” Ray’s voice was just a froggy whisper that probably nobody but Dief could hear, but somehow he knew Fraser heard.

“Ray!” Fraser’s voice was a lot softer, close to his ear. “What in the name of…what happened to you?”

That’s when it all came back to Ray, and he realized he was more awake than he’d been in a while, and it was a real good thing he mostly couldn’t feel his arms because they had to hurt bad at this point.

What happened?” Fraser repeated, more softly.

Ray kind of snickered at that, because really, wasn’t it obvious?

But maybe not.

“Clowns,” he managed to say.

“Clowns?” Fraser’s voice cracked and went high like a teenager’s, no kidding.

“Yeah.” Ray felt kind of sleepy again. “Big feet, big hair, ugly suits, stupid names. You know. Clowns.”

“Oh, dear,” Fraser said. There was a rustling sound, and then Ray felt a heavy-warm-something settle on his shoulders. Nice, even though Ray wasn’t really cold, hadn’t been cold in a while, he didn’t think.

“Nice,” he murmured. It smelled nice, like Fraser.

“It’s just my pea coat,” Fraser said. “It’s not nearly enough. We’ve got to get you down and rewarm you. You’re not shivering, which is not a good sign.”

“Shivering is good? What, are we in the tundra?” Ray kind of giggled.

“We might as well be. You’re clearly hypothermic.”

“So warm me up, I like that. Cocoa and caribou fur, bring it on.”

“Caribou do not have fur,” Fraser muttered, but that was just one of those things he said.

“Whatever. Okay, get me down.” Ray still had his eyes closed.

“Hm, these are your own cuffs,” Fraser said, like he knew them on sight. He rattled them a little, which Ray couldn’t really feel that except maybe the pressure of Fraser’s hand on his. Yeah. So, his hands weren’t totally dead. Good.

“Yeah, clowns got no sense of humor,” Ray said. He’d have shrugged, but his shoulders weren’t having any of that. They were aching like hell; the right one especially, like it had a spike through it. Good sign again, he told himself. Not done yet. Pain is good.

“So I take it your key is…”

“In my other pants, yeah. Which, I got no pants, either.”

Fraser did a throat-clearing thing. “I’d noticed.”

“Clowns are evil,” Ray said.

“They certainly can be most inconvenient.” Fraser was unsnapping his belt pouch, by the sound of it.

“You have a lockpick,” Ray accused.

“Of course I do,” Fraser said. “However this is merely a spare key to your cuffs. Hold still, please.”

Like Ray had any choice. “You carry a spare key to my cuffs?” he squeaked.

“Certainly,” Fraser said. “You’re my partner; it seemed prudent.”

Huh? Ray’s brain worried at that concept a bit, like Dief at a pizza crust, but it didn’t have enough juice at the moment to make sense of it, so he let go.

Fraser, handcuffs. Handcuffs. Fraser.

Ray’s had a normal key, not like the weird ones Fraser kept in his desk drawer at the…

The memory of Fraser snapping the cuffs around Ray’s wrists, that day when he ran into the Consulate for asylum was suddenly alive in Ray’s mind, and it focused him like a cold breath of wind.

He was maybe feeling a little of that, too.

But also…cuffs. Fraser.

Oh, yeah. Ray was cuffed. And here was Fraser with his hands around Ray’s wrists like that day in the Consulate, only this time Ray was 1) not wanted for murder and B) naked.

If Ray hadn’t been halfway to an ice cube right then, he’d probably be blushing, or maybe worse.

So there was one more advantage of almost freezing to death—no chance of boners anytime soon. He really didn't know how Fraser would react to that kind of thing, and in the middle of an...incident...wasn't really the time to find out.

There was more rattling, a good kind of rattling sound, cuffs opening, and then Ray swayed and almost fell backward with the sudden weight of his arms swinging uncontrollably on both sides, and now both shoulders had spikes of pain through them.

And Ray didn’t fucking care, because Fraser’s arms, warm and solid, were around him.

“I’m sorry,” Ray said before he even knew what he was saying.

“For what?”

“Cuffs,” Ray said.

“Oh dear, you’re babbling again.”

“Not really,” Ray said. “Just, sorry you had to do this, and also I gotta scream now.”

“Ah, perhaps you could wait until…never mind. Go ahead, and I’ll try to muffle it a bit.”

He moved Ray around to lean against his shoulder, and that put the collar of Fraser’s pea coat near Ray’s mouth. He squinted his eyes open, finally, and he saw the collar, so he bit down.

“Good choice,” Fraser said, as Ray screamed into the collar and gagged a bit on the wool.

“Shoulders?” Fraser said.

“Mm-hmm,” Ray said into the wool.

“Pain is a very good sign.”

“Yeah, I know.

And Fraser was holding him, naked with Fraser’s coat on his shoulders, in an alley.

There were human footsteps near the mouth of the alley, and Dief barked. The footsteps sped up. “Perverts,” a voice said.

Ray squinted up at Fraser. Without his glasses on, he saw Fraser all sort of fuzzy and maybe even haloed a little by the orangey street lamps.

“It’s late, huh?”

“Possibly,” Fraser said, and hey, that was cryptic.

Ray swallowed. “Take me home?”

“Yes,” Fraser said.

 

We still gotta get those perps," Ray said after he'd gotten settled in the car--his car; because by the time Dief found Ray, Fraser had already located the GTO and brought it, had a spare key for that, too, it turned out.

"Which ones?"

"The clowns!" Jeez, Fraser could be so dense sometimes.

But Ray dropped it, because he was too busy slumping against the door.

"There really were clowns," he said.

"Of course," Fraser said. "Aren't there always."

Maybe in Fraser's world, that made sense. Maybe Ray'd have to be a hell of a lot more hypothermic for that to make sense to him, and so that was another good sign, he figured. His arms had gone from dead fish to pins and needles and now to ow-ow-ow…but they were going to be okay. He rubbed his wrists.

“I’ll give you some salve,” Fraser said, pronouncing the L.

“We gotta put out an APB on the clowns,” Ray said on a yawn. “Except I don’t even remember what to say, so I’m gonna have to have that hot chocolate and caribou fur first.”

“Mm. We’ll get you warmed up pronto.” Fraser had the heat blasting in the car and he’d wrapped the blanket from Ray’s trunk all around Ray.

It was like Fraser’s arms were still there.

Ray swallowed. "Fraser?" he said.

"Yes, Ray?"

"You still got my cuffs?"

"Yes, Ray."

"And your spare key? Cuz we need the key."

"Ah," Fraser said, and Ray kind of thought he got it. He looked over, and Fraser was driving like a dork, of course, one mile under the limit and sitting up ramrod straight, but he glanced over at Ray for just long enough. He was the guy who'd hugged Ray in an alley, and that was all there in his eyes.

“I have it,” Fraser said, cool as a…Canadian from Blizzardville.

Consulate Fraser with the handcuffs and Rescue-Mountie with, apparently, all the spare keys to Ray's life.

"You ever think it might be good to, you know...practice with them?" Ray was probably out on a limb here, but what the heck. Hypothermia was like being drunk or high on painkillers...there was a deniability factor that you could use later if you needed to, to save your rep. Or your partnership, if it came to that.

He didn't think it was going to come to that with Fraser, of course. He and Fraser had already experienced enough weird stuff together to qualify for some kind of lifetime weirdness achievement award, and none of it ever flapped Fraser. The guy's tolerance for truly strange behavior and events was into the stratosphere. On a scale where, say, an alien abduction rated a five, Fraser could rock a ten without turning a hair on his sleek head.

”Practice...er, what exactly?" Fraser said calmly, checking all his mirrors and over his shoulder before carefully putting the turn signal on and then finally making a lane change.

Ray thought fast. "Uh, getting out of them...and...stuff." He cleared his throat. "You know, I try to make mine pretty secure, but I've seen you get out of metal cuffs in seconds. Would've been a good skill to have today, you know?"

"Ah," Fraser said again. "Yes, I agree. It's not that difficult to learn if you have some basic biofeedback skills."

”Bio-whatsis?"

”The ability to slow your heart rate at will, that kind of thing," Fraser said.

"Oh. Didn't you use Bouga Toad juice for one of those things you did?"

"Well, yes, but simulating death without chemical assistance is an advanced skill.”

Ray whacked himself in the head, more gently than usual since both his hand and his head were still kind of throbbing. Okay, so actually Fraser was already up to Weirdness Level 12, and there was no telling how far beyond that he could go without a hitch.

Ray figured that for a green light, pedal to the metal. "You ever think about...um...uh…?" Whoa. Apparently Ray wasn't prepared after all to come out and say it.

"Yes, Ray.”

"Huh?" Ray was pretty sure he hadn't even asked yet.

"Yes, I've thought about it," Fraser clarified in a totally unclear way.

Ray felt a yawn coming on. On second thought, hypothermia probably wasn't the best condition for Ray to be in if he was finally going to discuss this with Fraser. But he couldn't let them get too far off the right track or he wouldn't be able to sort it out even when he had all his marbles back on his brain plate. So he had to at least make sure Fraser was basically on the same page.

"I mean about...you know. Me." Ray said. "And you."

"Yes, Ray." And Fraser's hand came off the wheel and roamed into Ray's space and found his without Fraser even taking his eyes off the road for a second, like his hand had some kind of homing device.

Which Ray figured Fraser did. He'd found Ray pretty easily considering the size of Chicago and the fact that he hadn't even known Ray was in a jam. Ray'd wasted his energy worrying. Fluffy and his crook friends wouldn't have a chance once Fraser got on their trail, which they'd probably think was cold. For Fraser, it'd be hot-hot-hot.

"Tomorrow," Ray said, "I'll probably have my head together enough to put the details about the clowns out there, and then you and me, we can go arrest their sorry asses."

"All right."

"Tonight, though, I gotta get rewarmed. How do they do that, hot water bottle and a glass of Scotch?" He hid his grin behind his hand.

"Alcoholic drinks would be dangerous, Ray. The hot water bottle is better, but it wouldn't be equal to the job."

"Well, then, uh, what do I do? Bath?"

"As long as there's no frostbite, that might be all right.”

“Nah, maybe I'd drown," Ray said.

"Well, I won't leave you alone, of course," Fraser said.

"Oh, okay. Good."

Fraser cleared his throat. "If this were the Arctic, Ray, and we were, say, on an expedition with dogsleds, I'd suggest lying down with several of the dogs to let them warm you naturally. It's quite effective, really."

Yeah, Ray would bet. Not what he had in mind, though. "Dief is not getting on my bed," Ray said. "The sofa, okay, but not the bed.” He half-turned to look into the back seat, where Dief was sprawled. “Sorry, Wolf."

Dief whined softly. Fraser shot a pointed glance at the rearview mirror and shushed the wolf by mouthing something that looked long and complicated and not the least bit like English.

"So, um, hot water bottle, then?" Ray'd learned in his years as a detective that often the best question was the one you already knew the answer to.

A tiny, tiny smile edged onto Fraser's lips. "Well, if Dief isn't welcome in the bed, perhaps...ah, perhaps I would be.”

Ray nodded like he was thinking it over. "I gotta admit you got that biofeedback thing," he said. "Comes in handy, huh?"

"Yes. I can raise my body temperature to generate a little more warmth for you."

Oh, there was going to be warmth, all right. Ray grinned because he couldn't help it, and let his fingers relax so they laced themselves into Fraser's perfectly. Fraser was still driving one-handed, but now he had to make a turn, and he squeezed Ray's hand once and let it go. Ray looked up to see Fraser turn the car smoothly into the parking lot behind Ray's building and then tuck it perfectly into its spot under the carport. He killed the ignition, flipped the keys into his breast pocket, and turned to Ray.

If Ray'd thought Fraser had heat in his eyes before, then this was an incendiary blaze. And like Greta Garbo's perfume accelerant, if Ray stood close enough, Fraser's fire was going to catch.

Too, late, actually.

Fraser put his hand on the front of Ray's blanket and tugged him closer. Ray was still pretty well swaddled, but he kicked his legs free, and it was only when the cold air hit him that he remembered he was still naked under the blanket.

Fraser’s free hand curved, strong and warm, around Ray’s thigh just above the knee. Oh. Oh, yeah.

And then Fraser kissed him.

Ray lost track of whatever he’d been thinking and just went with the feeling. His whole body seemed to wake up, every part of him zinging, wildly alive with the pressure of Fraser’s mouth on his, as though Fraser was breathing life into him like he did on the sinking ship. Except this time, Fraser’s tongue was making seriously intimate with Ray’s, and Ray was cozy and safe and dry, and Fraser smelled incredibly good, and they both seemed to have all the air they needed.

Kissing Benton Fraser, getting kissed by him, was just as outstanding as Ray'd always figured it would be, if he ever got that lucky.

Eventually Fraser must've exhausted his extra air reserves, because he broke the kiss, his lips leaving Ray's so slowly, like they were reluctant. Which meant they'd be back soon. Ray could go with that.

Fraser pulled in a deep breath, and at the same time, his hand, still on Ray's thigh, slid an inch up Ray's leg.

Which was when Ray realized that one, he was getting a serious erection under the blanket, and B, C, and D, if Fraser kept this up, the two of them were going to commit about four misdemeanor offenses right there in his own parking spot. In front of his Nosy Parker neighbors, probably.

He snaked his hand under the blanket and got hold of Fraser's before it went anywhere illegal. "Fraser."

"Ray."

"Fraser!" Jeez, when Fraser went for it, he really went for it, whole hog. Which meant Ray was in for the ride of his life, pretty damn soon. But...

"Not here," Ray murmured. "And I should be eligible for a medal for self-control for stopping you, but, you know. Lascivious acts are, uh..."

"Best conducted in a little more privacy," Fraser said in a seriously husky voice. He licked his lower lip, slowly, and patted his belt pouch. Which rattled faintly--Ray's cuffs.

Oh, yeah. This was going to be interesting.

"Let's go in," Ray said.

"Yes," Fraser said, though he didn't actually move to go anywhere.

"You and me, we're..." Ray didn't even know how to finish that--there were too many ways, all of them right: friends, partners, lovers...crazy, nuts...happy. In it for the long haul...on the adventure of a lifetime.

"Yeah," Fraser said, and the look in his eyes said he was on Ray's wavelength, like when their partnership was clicking at its best.

"Okay."

"Right."

"Yeah."

Ray held his blanket together as best he could, hit the door catch, and tugged Fraser by the hand towards their future.

All things considered, Ray considered, he was a lucky kind of guy.


End file.
